


Do Me A Favour

by Kissed_by_Circe



Series: Some Things Blossom In The Dark [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Beta Wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 03:58:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16009817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissed_by_Circe/pseuds/Kissed_by_Circe
Summary: The super cute friendship of Gendry and Sansa and the favours they ask of each other.Inspired by “baby, it’s fact” by valonqarth. Made me think about Sansa and Gendry and how cute it’d be if they were ~*besties*~.





	Do Me A Favour

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [baby, it's fact](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3594489) by [valonqarth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valonqarth/pseuds/valonqarth). 



> Inspired by “baby, it’s fact” by valonqarth. Made me think about Sansa and Gendry and how cute it’d be if they were ~*besties*~.

He sits down gingerly, his back stiff, his hands clasped together in his lap. Arya’s sister always looks so proper and prim, and he can already see her raise an eyebrow and crunch her nose at the dirty mechanic in his worn clothes if he slumped down on the couch too casually. He’s seen it often enough when Arya’s brothers and the dozens of other guys that visit her and her sister in their apartment throw themselves into one of the loveseats unceremoniously.

 

Right now, she’s coping something out of a textbook, perched on her pink velvet armchair like a queen, the deep emerald colour of her sweater a sharp contrast against her nest of pale pink wool blankets and cushions with roses printed on them. Even her cat, a roundish white thing that looked like a cloud with legs, wears a matching pink silk ribbon around her neck.

 

“Aehem.” He clears his throat, once, twice, _trice_ , until she looks up from her notes and tilts her head slightly. “Do you have a sore throat? I could make you some tea, if you’d like…” Her voice is perfectly polite, not even slightly irritated or annoyed. Arya always calls her stuck-up and stand-offish, and she is, after all, Joffrey’s girlfriend, which says a lot about her character, but maybe she isn’t as bad as everyone thought.

 

“Um, no. I just wanted to talk to you.” She is good at hiding her emotions – part of the reason why Arya used to call her the _bitch of_ _winter_ , long before Sansa let her move into her spacious flat in one of the better parts of KL – but now she blinks in surprise, and why wouldn’t she? He’s never addressed her directly, neither during awkward dinners with his father’s family, nor when he comes over to hang out with Arya.

 

“Erm, okay. Is Arya busy? You could watch TV, I don’t mind…” “Uh, no. I- I wanted to ask you for a favour.” She clearly relaxes at his words. A favour ss probably the only reason for him talking to her that seems logic to her. “It’s about Myrcella’s birthday, I want to get a pretty gift for her and – I have no idea what I should get her.” Her face lights up and she sits up straighter, placing her book and markers on the coffee table, a small smile blossoming on her lips. He can practically see the sweet, girly part of her take over. “That’s _so_ cute of you. And of course I’ll help you.”

 

* * *

 

His voice is hoarse, and she can practically see him, his eyes small from sleep and his short hair tousled from sleep. “I- I’m so, so sorry to wake you, but Joff doesn’t answer his phone, and the only garage around here doesn’t open before 6 and it’s dark and-“ She’s rambling again, she can feel a hiccup forming in her throat, and he probably can’t understand a word she’s saying, if he’s even listening to her, but she’s too scared to care. They don’t talk often, they don’t spend time with each other, but he’s the only one she can call now.

 

“Sansa, please. I have no idea what you are talking about. Has something happened? Are you okay? Take a deep breath and speak slowly.” His voice is soft and calm, not even a trace of his sleepiness left in it, and she’s grateful for it. It calms her a bit, not enough to keep her fingers from shaking, but she manages to speak without her voice breaking at last. “My car broke down. I- I have no idea how to…” She hiccups.

 

“Okay, sweetling, it’s alright. Where are you? Did you lock your doors? Yes? Good girl. I’ll be there in 10.” She hears him trip over something and he swears under his breath. “I fell asleep on the couch, so it’s a good thing you called. Without you I would have woken up with _horrible_ back pains, I swear by the old gods and the new, this sofa is trying to _kill_ me. At least your car broke down in a nice neighbourhood.” His tone is light and calm, the kind of tone her father used when talking to a scared animal. She’s not sure if it’s a good or a bad sign, but Gendry keeps chatting around, drowning out the voice in the back of her head that tells her of all the terrible things that happen to girls out alone.

 

She buries herself in her hoodie, curls up in the car seat and allows his gentle voice to wash over her. “The worst crime committed there was fraud, by a _girl gang_. Like, really, if a group of girl scouts comes up to you and wants to sell you some chocolate chip cookies, _don’t take them_. They tell you it’s chocolate, but it’s actually _raisins_. I almost _died_ when I tried one.” And, despite her fear, she grins. “I think I can see your car – the white 1960 corvette?” “Yes.”

 

Gendry stiffens when she jumps out of her car and throws her arms around him, but after a moment he relaxes and hugs her back.

 

* * *

 

He hears her long before she rounds the corner – the stuttering engine of her kaefer 1300 mixed with the tinny sound of a Taylor Swift song – and he feels himself relax. The moment her car pulls up to the curb his stomach untangles, and his heart sinks into his knees.

 

He hoped for this, and he dreaded it all the same. But now, Sansa just jumps out of her car, the same one he repaired for her when her parents and brother died and she had to sell her convertible, a spring in her step, throws her long copper hair over her shoulder and grabs one of the bags on the sidewalk.

 

“I can’t believe that Cersei throws you out _now_. Uncle Robert’s not even cold yet, and she just throws all of your stuff on the sidewalk.”, Arya grumbles and Gendry snorts. “He’s still upstairs, she wanted him to lay in state so that she could play the grieving widow.”, he tells them, prompting Arya to pretend that she’s puking into one of the elegant little bushes that line the sidewalk outside the Baratheon residence.

 

“She’s probably grief-stricken.”, Sansa whispers, and Gendry notices, not for the first time, how uneasy she looks this near to Joff, how she fidgets with the promise ring his half-brother gave her and the way she wraps her hair around her finger – as if she wants to rip it out. “But she still could have given you time – or real boxes for your things”, she holds up a laundry basket full of clothes and pulls a silky pink camisole out of it, “or made sure that you only take your own clothes and don’t try and steal some of Myrcella’s.”

 

“Oh, the top that looks like a sexy lingerie pyjama thing actually belongs to me, I want to look pretty for the ladies.” His grin is infective, and Sansa wonders how he can be this cheery when his father died only yesterday, but then she remembers how he once told her that his family consists of three people – his two half-sisters and his boss – and so she just grabs things from the sidewalk and loads them in the trunk of her car.

 

“Where will you stay, Gendry?”, she asks him, her voice soft, and then, trying not to think about what Joff will do when he meets his half-brother in her apartment, she says, “You could sleep on our couch, until you’ve found something.” His relieved smile is worth the fear of her boyfriend, she decides.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Her voice breaks, and she hates him for making her like this, hates him for breaking her heart and her voice and, she’s sure of it, her wrist. He’s a monster, and she was so naïve, so blind – but doesn’t love make people blind? Her thoughts are swirling around in her head, a dull ache spreading over her forehead.

 

Sweat drips down the left side of her face – it’s so cold, the tiles in her back are icy and her hands feel clammy, but her face is so _wet_ , wet with tears and sweat, she thinks – and she tries to wipe it away. Then she notices the blood on her fingers. She doesn’t know how long she sits there before she manages to grip the edge of the sink and hoist herself onto the rim of the bathtub.

 

She almost faints when she sees her face, a pale oval before the red curtain of her hair and the burgundy red walls Joff chose for their flat, and her crimson stained fingers shake when she dials Arya’s number, but she keeps breathing. Keeps breathing while Joff yells and tries to kick in the bathroom door.

 

When she opens the door to Arya, who simply broke down their front door, she’s relieved to see Gendry behind her, Gendry, who is tall and muscular and one of the sweetest men she’s ever known. Her sister knocks Joff out cold, like Sansa knew she would, but Gendry holds her tight and tells her that everything will be alright and that an ambulance is on its way.

 

He holds her hand until they arrive, he murmurs nonsense when the paramedics have to strap her into a special stretcher, he asks her to look at him and to tell him about her new internship and her plans for the holidays while Arya breaks Joff’s nose to make up for Sansa’s broken skull and wrist. When they drive of, Arya sitting next to Sansa, looking over her older sister like a hawk, he stays behind to pack her things.

 

A few weeks later he tells her what he found in Joff’s desk while searching for her passport and account books, and that he had to call the police. “He’ll serve _a very long time_ , sweetling. No need to worry about him too much.” He smiles, and hands her some aspirin for her headache.

 

* * *

 

“Um, Sansa?” The scene reminds him of the first time he asked for her help, almost ten years ago – she’s bundled up in a cocoon of blankets and furs, her fingers wrapped around a mug of steaming hot chocolate while she’s browsing some magazine, but the situation is a lot different.

 

They’re not in the airy apartment she shared with her sister during her time a KL University, but in the cosy brownstone she and Jon purchased some years ago, and they’re no longer mere acquittances, but best friends. He was one of the groomsmen when they got married this summer, and they’re going to spend Christmas together again. They’re family, and not just because he’s dating her sister.

 

“Yes?” She looks up from her magazine, her gaze distant and far away before she shakes her head, tilts it in that way of hers, and smiles at him. “I need your help. Picking a ring for Arya. You know more about those things than I do – I don’t even know _where_ to buy one.”, he admits sheepishly, and Sansa smiles before reprimanding him. “Oh my gods, Gendry, Christmas is in _two weeks_ , I thought you had all your presents. And Arya doesn’t like rings or jewellery, apart from those engraved dog tags you got her for your anniversary.”

 

He grins, looking at his shoes, and tells her “Well, it’s not a simple ring. More like, an engagement ri-“ He doesn’t get to finish that sentence, because Sansa _squeals_ and lunches herself at him, wrapping her arms around him. A few “OH MY GODS!” and “I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!” and “MY BABYSISTER IS GETTING MARRIED!” she’s calm enough to actually ask him about it and listen to his answers.

 

“We were watching one of those reality shows she loves to hate, and some guy on there proposed to his girlfriend in a mall surrounded by a few hundred people and Arya said, and I quote: ‘Ugh, if you proposed to me like that I’d say no. If you ask me that question, you better do it without _anyone_ watching, because you’re going to cry like a babe. And, Gendry – I’ll say ‘yes’ if you ever ask me, okay?’ So now I need your help with the ring.”

 

Tears are glinting in Sansa’s eyes, and she leans over to him confidently with the biggest grin he’s ever seen on her face. “If you ask her during the holidays, you’ll either get married next year, _or_ , if you need more time for the preparations, you’ll marry the year after that. And _if_ you choose to wait that long, you’ll get the cutest little flower girl. Or boy, it’s still too soon to tell.”

 

Gendry stares at her with his mouth agape, as she leans back in her seat and gently places a hand on her belly. “I’m quite sure that your godchild will be more than happy to throw some rose petals in Rickon’s face.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and sweet comments :) :) :)


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